


Praise The Fallen

by blackazuresoul



Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Child Death, Church Sex, M/M, Minor Violence, Religion Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackazuresoul/pseuds/blackazuresoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aesthetic massacre. The perfection of chaos dealt, its masters pontificate their dark divinity.</p>
<p>Prompt: 'Eucharist; Crusnik sex'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Praise The Fallen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [svana_vrika](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=svana_vrika).



> A/N: This story is set prior to Abel’s shift in attitude with regard to Terrankind. His contempt for them battles with what Lilith preaches but Cain refuses to let his brother go.

  
The Terrans retreated, their anguished cries raising to the sleeping, darkened skies above. Acrid smoke and flames choked the sorrowful wails that floated from the devastation. Glass and debris littered the streets of yet another crushed corner of what was left of the world, bearing up the dead on a sea of carnage and two angels stood in the midst of it all– delivering Their divine judgement upon the ones that dared to survive Armageddon.  
  
Constantinople lay a shell of her former self, all begun by the terrible daemons that called for the blood of the masses. Methuselah, they’d named themselves. It appeared that God had chosen a new people to press to His bosom. Prayers and petitions fell on taciturn ears and the Terrans huddled in secret places as around the known world, God turned His back on them.  
  
Nanomachines were enhanced and sated with Methuselah blood, both by casualties and those of the company who bared their pale throats in service to the angels; gods on earth who righteously unmasked their dreadful natures. Beautiful twin seraphim that reaped destruction, along with the Chosen ones. Bodies, their souls since departed, lay as refuse along the rubble of the ancient capital and somewhere in the distance, sung laments of entreaty rose to coax the God of old from His exodus into the night.   
  
Abel moved aside his white robe to step over a fallen Terran, the even step of his silver boot crushing bones in the corpse’s hand. His black wings lay against his back and gore dripped from the primaries to run like tears along the back of his garment. A hand banished the red scythe he bore and crimson eyes looked askance at the angel of light by his side. Cain’s robes were spattered with the blood of the dead and he rolled a corpse over on its back with the end of his weapon. The fragile beings had been no match for the damnation that crashed over them like so much water.   
  
Several bodies had been fed from in the campaign and the Methuselah had continued on, fighting for lands they and their ancestors had once held. A portion of the world was to be theirs and no submission would be given to those that dared to call themselves their masters. The Gods of the Chosen had come to raise them up above the weak ones whose lives were as a lamp in the breeze.   
  
When Cain’s eyes met Abel’s, a bloody smile crested on the dark angel’s lips and Cain answered with hooded eyes. Abel held out a soiled, gloved hand; the second and third finger capped with a silver filagree claw. It tinkled as it touched the metal on Cain’s reaching hand and Abel held the deadly fingers to lead the other toward a ruined temple. “Come, brother,” he sounded, his voice a deep and resonant tenor. Cain banished his lance and they walked through the wake of slaughter.  
  
  
“Is this not the _Hagia Sofia_?” Cain asked conversationally as they passed through the ragged archway that was once the door to the nave. The entire narthex had been reduced to detritus, the top tier of a manoualia poking out of the debris. The dome above the nave was largely intact and they both regarded the mosaics that tiled the convexity. Cherubim flanked a sublime Christ in the ceiling of the dome, His gaze peering unseeingly on the pair. One of the pendentives had cracked, a large chunk of it resting in the bare floor of the nave and Abel glanced up at the partially missing arcade of arched windows at the base of the dome. A soft snort issued from Cain’s nostrils. “ ‘They that trust in their wealth, and boast themselves in the multitude of their riches,’ " he murmured then removed his hand from Abel’s with a smile. “Please wait for me, brother,” he purred then turned to exit the temple, his white robes disappearing into the shadows.   
  
Abel licked his lips and made his way to the marble alter behind askew, golden gates that were flanked by depictions of angels. It had all likely been beautiful before the war. One corner of the altar was missing and curious eyes read the carved inscription on its front. Fine, Greek letters were traced with a metal claw as he perfectly recited them. His voice reverberated in the sanctuary and when he was through, Abel wiped a hand over the altar surface. Behind it, the vessel for the sacraments sat in resplendent cloister and Lilith’s voice picked at his brain.  
  
 _They are not to be cast out, my brother. We all are humans in the sight of God– his precious children..._   
  
With a broad sweep of his arm, the ciborium was hurled to the marble floor and the sound it made repeated above him. He could now hear screams in the outskirts of the city; the Methuselah had found the ones that sung and a different chorus now raised to the empty heavens. A litany of pain. He hated them all– content to send them to oblivion and let their impotent god sort them out.   
  
The vessel’s lid rolled to a stop near his boot and Abel looked down at it, then over to the container. It had spilled its contents onto the floor; consecrated Hosts littering the dusty marble. He took a step toward it and the toe of his boot spread the discs in an arc and he completed his step, a hand raising to capture the small, glass vessel that contained a dark liquid. Abel lifted it from the tabernacle and stared into its depths, turning the delicate vessel in the light of several remaining candles. Curious, he uncapped the stopper and sniffed the contents and the light scent of wine caressed his nostrils.   
  
Abel held the vessel to his chest and turned to face the altar just as Cain walked through the destroyed gate, his arms laden. Abel set the glass decanter on the stone surface and watched him approach. Cain’s burden sobbed against his chest and he stepped over a chunk of ceiling tile. He held the top half of the being across his middle with an arm wrapped around its back and the other hand held its legs to his hip. Crimson eyes shone at his brother as blood-crusted lips opened to melodiously speak. “And the Lord spake, saying: Suffer the little children come unto me.” The small child in his arms fisted the white robes Cain wore and turned his brown head to see the dark angel at the altar of his god and he wept anew, his entreats going ignored.   
  
Abel paced around the stone table to meet the other Crusnik and fingers sifted through the boy’s hair, though his eyes were fixed on his sibling’s. A small smile awakened and the tips of his fangs peeked between the seam of his lips, continuing the verse Cain had begun. “…and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God,” he finished then dropped his gaze to the child. Tips of the claws carefully lifted the boy’s chin and liquid brown eyes stared up at him in horror. Abel sniffed the air and smiled beatifically at him and Cain adjusted his hold of the boy, turning him to face the other man– holding him as if he himself were a child, offering a gift.   
  
“Purity for you, brother. Beautiful in his innocence and tragic in his orphanage. My gift to you, _Contra Mundi_ ,” Cain drawled darkly and though the child cried, Abel took him to his breast, laying the boy’s head against his shoulder. A stained glove rubbed soothing circles along the child’s back and he spoke words of comfort to him in the language of the land. Cain’s eyelashes feathered along his high cheekbones as he watched his brother and his wings twitched when Abel’s hand threaded again through the deep tresses, reminded of how it felt within the thick strands of his own.  
  
“Do not be afraid, child,” Abel consoled. His nose sought out the boy’s hair and he breathed deeply of the sweetness of death. A sacrifise to God the human would be; to neither enhanse him nor sate the nanomachines, but Abel would not refuse the offering. The thought of tasting such untainted blood sent barbs of arousal through the Crusnik’s body and platinum lashes opened to the hungry look Cain burned into his countenance.   
  
Cain drew the tip of his tongue along the seam of his lips in anticipation and Abel lowered his gaze, his hand gliding up the child’s back to brush hair away from his smooth neck. Amid the boy’s muffled cries, Abel dropped his chin to further scent the human. He extended his tongue to taste the boy’s skin and when his fangs pierced the flesh, Cain’s eyes hooded for a moment then opened to hold the red that peered at him over a thin neck.  
A low growl bubbled in Abel’s throat as he drank. Terran blood had a certain rawness to it but the child’s essence flowed pure within his mouth and Abel felt his arousal spike. A few more beats of the lamb’s heart and Abel withdrew his fangs and licked the puncture then his own lips.  
  
“Sup with me, my brother,” Abel invited, holding out his free hand toward the older twin. Their curse was also their pleasure, as was the slaughter they had eaten like candy. To again taste virgin blood on his tongue drew Cain to the dark angel and with hands entwined, his fangs penetrated the boy’s flesh. A weak cry gurgled in the human’s throat and Abel watched his brother partake.  
Cain was even more resplendent when he fed, a dance of power and sensuality that never failed to stimulate Abel, and now was no exception. Cain’s lips softly sucked at the creamy skin and Abel pressed the dying boy between them. The blonde’s free hand travelled up Abel’s bicep and he groaned against the child’s neck as he felt his brother’s nose burrowing in his hair. A deep intake of breath and Abel’s exhale exited in a drawn out and pleased rumble.   
  
Like a doll, the boy hung limp in Abel’s half-embrase, small fists dropping away from the folds of material they’d gripped and Cain looked up at his double then crunched down on the human’s neck, crushing delicate vertebrae within his powerful jaws. A smile ghosted across Abel’s face and his breath quieted as he watched Cain slowly withdraw his fangs. The child’s head fell unnaturally to the side without the aid of the Crusnik and Abel let the human slide from his arm to the floor with a thump that swiftly echoed in the nave. Fingers still entwined, Abel drew his brother against him.  
  
“Such purity is wasted on my lips,” Cain whispered and both of Abel’s hands lifted to hold his head. The younger twin’s eyes languidly slit and they traded sanguine breaths between them.   
  
“Then I suppose, by right, I should reclaim it,” he countered lowly then traced Cain’s lower lip with the tip of his tongue, savouring the dulcet tang of his sibling’s flesh beneath the honey of the human’s blood. When their lips sealed, a growl passed into Abel’s mouth and Cain pressed their hips together. He felt the pronounced cut of his brother’s cock beneath the fabric, firm and warm with the blood of his offering. His own length mimed its likeness but then gold claws pulled to break the kiss.  
  
Cain’s leer bore down on him and Abel licked his own lips. “Would you claim it here, in this house of God?” he asked, the sharp tips that capped a few fingers pressing against the younger man’s scalp.  
  
“I would,” Abel replied, the irises of his eyes dilating. “And more.” Abel assaulted his mouth, a fang cutting into Cain’s lip. Fresh tears of blood were passed along probing tongues and Cain moved an arm between them. His hand fit around Abel’s throat and pushed until the kiss was broken again. A displeased exhale issued forth from him and Cain cocked his head with a faint smile.  
  
“Perhaps it is I who shall claim what is his. You are my junior after all, _02_ ,” he challenged and Abel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his smile growing sharp. It was always the same with Cain; he would play his dominance game and sometimes Abel would let him win or Cain would take the victory for himself. Lilith would admonish them for their violence toward each other, but she never knew how it fueled their desire for one another and in the confines of their shared bedroom, they learned that violence always begat a certain peace– and passion, whether brutal or gentle, always bore the craving for more.  
  
As he stared at Cain, Abel mentally withdrew his acknowledgement of the nanomachines, dropping their output to fourty percent. His wings folded in on themselves and drew up to be absorbed back into his body yet all else remained the same. The lessened strain manifested itself in a eased sigh and with haste, Cain’s back slammed against the stone altar. Abel grasped the elder’s wrists and Cain let out a pained grunt as the lip of the altar fractured several of the primaries in his wings. A few white feathers fell at their feet and Abel flashed his twin a sinistre smile. “What was that you were saying about what is yours, _01_?” he murmured close to parted lips.  
  
Cain followed his example and dropped his own output, a quiet hum of relief vibrating in his throat as his wings vanished. Eyes rolled to their match and Cain caressed the tip of a fang with his tongue– Abel truly indulged him far too much. A cursory glance to the altar behind him, he returned to scan Abel’s face. “Your irreverence is delicious, Abel,” he purred as he rolled his captive wrists. He moved his sibling’s hands to his hips and reached with his own to undo the ornate silver belt that rode low on Abel’s waist. The belt dropped and Cain fingered the trinket that hung from the younger man’s neck– a rosary Abel had picked up in their campaign through the north. “Ambrosial,” Cain finished and sharply tugged on the chain of the rosary. It snapped and black beads fell in a muted staccato. He threw it off to the side and Abel watched its trajectory then turned titian eyes to the blonde.  
  
“ ‘I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God,’ “ Abel cited and a claw hooked a golden button on Cain’s robe, his finger then following the blonde’s midline and falling away.   
Cain deftly undid the clasps of his own robe and slowly pulled the lapels apart to reveal his smooth, pale chest. Abel’s eyes scanned his flawless skin, continuing down to the firmness contained in his fitted trousers. The back of his index claw drew over Cain’s clothed arousal then raised to sever the threads of the single button at the waist.  
  
Cain peered at him through the blonde fringe that sat over his left eye and he opened Abel’s robe and the tips of decorated fingertips softly glided down his brother’s chest– a perfect mirror to himself. “Blood of my blood; flesh of my flesh,” he whispered and moved against Abel to capture his lips again. Their lust grew as they both supped at each other’s lips and tongues mapped the lush velvet of hot mouths.   
Cain broke the liplock and quietly smiled at Abel as if secrets flavoured his tongue, but he knew neither one of them had any to keep. He ran the flat of it along Abel’s collar bone and up the column of his neck to toy with the small, silver hoop that graced the lobe of his ear. “Fuck me…if you _can_ ,” Cain goaded and suddenly, Abel was pressed hard against the altar as Cain bit his neck.  
  
Abel smirked, even as he tipped his head back and he raised a hand to hold Cain’s head to him. The exquisite burn of his fangs travelled down Abel's throat and pulled his nipples taut. Cain languidly rolled his hips against Abel to tease the soft growls from his twin. He didn’t drink much and when he withdrew, a small tear of blood wended down his chin to fall on Abel’s bare chest. The blonde’s tongue captured the drop and the pass of his tongue painted a crimson smear it as it arced over to a hardened nub.  
  
Abel sucked in a breath as Cain’s lips clamped over the rosy flesh, drawing it between his teeth. His gaze rolled upward over the pale expanse, narrowing with mirth and Abel cried out in a half-snarl when one of Cain’s fangs pierced his nipple. They both watched the drop snake over Abel’s ribs and the younger man rescued it on the end of a claw. The tear precariously wavered then was deposited on Cain’s lower lip. He quickly laved it into his mouth and lewdly licked the artificial talon.  
  
He held his brother’s wrist and cleaned the claw, which Abel observed with more than passing interest. Platinum lashes slid lower and Abel slowly pushed his finger in and out of Cain’s mouth. His lips wrapped around the claw and he softly sucked the deadly appendage, a smile curling around the digit when Abel quietly purred. But a challenge was spoken in their eyes and the gauntlet thrown by a caress. Neither one of them would forfeit so easily and Abel knew his twin’s submissive act was just that– an act– as his own had been on more than one occasion. They did so enjoy their games.  
  
Cain shucked his coat and gloves and without the garments, his natural claws were allowed to lengthen; sharp, black nails that had carved their way through Terran flesh. Before Abel could react, he was swiftly moved to face the altar and Cain’s hand was at the back of his neck, pinning him to the polished stone surface. The elder stripped his brother of the robe and his hips firmly nudged Abel’s backside, teasing the length of his imprisoned cock along the defined musculature.  
  
Abel’s hands curled along the lip of the altar and he turned his head to let out a breathy snort as he observed Cain from the corner of his eye. A dark smile curled his lips and Abel bucked back hard against the blonde and when Cain’s hand dropped from his neck, the younger Crusnik swung out with an arm, the arc of the limb gauging two long lacerations across Cain’s chest. Blood welled up in the superficial lines and before he could assess the damage, Abel’s hand fit around his throat and Cain’s breath rushed from his lungs as his back met the altar top. In a fluid movement, Abel vaulted himself onto the table and crouched between his brother’s parted legs. A pointed tongue laved the tips of his claws as he peered down at the elder and Cain’s gaze was divided between Abel’s lips and his dark eyes.   
  
When Cain’s arms swept above his head, he sent the decanter of wine to the floor. Glittering shards of glass flew across the marble and the sacrament haemorrhaged from the vessel. It spread along the floor toward the desecrated host– the blood in search of its body. Abel observed it for a moment’s breath then turned his attention to the other and he shed his gloves. They floated down to where his robe lay and Abel’s index finger sought out the thick lines of blood that oozed from the wounds on Cain’s chest and he sampled the exquisite tang.  
  
Again, his finger traced the lacerations, painting a line down to the waistband of Cain’s trousers. Another line transected it and when Abel sat back, he viewed the bloody cross that decorated his sibling’s skin and the tip of his tongue cleaned the corner of his mouth. He then pressed palms to the table beneath him and crawled over Cain, his tongue following the upright of the cross to where it intersected with the cuts.  
Abel continued over them and when he drew near to Cain’s throat, he completed the movement with a harsh thrust of his pelvis against the other and the blonde’s hips rocked forward as Abel’s fangs pierced his throat. A loud groan spilled from Cain and he threw his head back, his neck arched to give access to the dark veins that spiderwebbed beneath the pale skin.   
  
He parted his legs further and bucked against the younger Crusnik, frotting their arousals together. Abel growled beneath his ear and dark claws shredded Cain’s trousers, leaving them to hang tattered on his limbs. Cain sucked in a breath as the cool air hit his hot skin and a drop of precome fell to its death on his lower abdomen. Abel withdrew his fangs but let the tips scrape upon his twin’s flesh; over the convexity of Cain’s sternum, along the dip of his belly, departing when Abel’s chin wiped through the viscous fluid that pooled just below the navel.  
  
Thin fingers drove through the wild platinum hair to firmly cup Abel’s skull and Cain pushed his cock between black lips with a growl. Sharp teeth haulted his machinations for a moment and Abel eyed his brother. His jaw twitched, the tips of his fangs threatening to puncture the shaft of Cain’s cock and the blonde looked down at him with an arched brow, his hands still buried in Abel’s hair. A throaty and brief snicker buzzed in Abel’s throat and he further opened his mouth to take him to the hilt in one stroke.   
A pleased hum punctuated Cain’s exhale and his head dropped back to the altar. Above, the mosaic of Jesus looked down upon him with an irenic countenance, witnessing the profanation of His house and a barbed smile tore across the Crusnik’s lips. In defiance, he rolled a single, hard thrust into Abel’s mouth, crimson eyes fixed on the lofty gaze.  
  
Unaware of the profane gesture, Abel continued to pleasure him. His nails carved bloody swatches along Cain’s bare thighs as his head bobbed and Cain arched his back with a snarl, his fingers tightening in Abel’s hair. “ ‘He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him.’,” Cain purred between breaths and spied down into his like. A tear of blood snaked from Abel’s hairline to run over his left eye and Cain moved one of his hands to capture the drop on the pad of his thumb. He brought the digit to his lips even as his hips snapped, pushing himself in and out of his brother’s mouth.   
Another drop of blood wended its way over Abel’s face and he released Cain’s cock to leer up at him. When the drop reached the corner of his mouth, Abel’s tongue slowly curled to lick it from the crease, the action sending poison-tipped arrows of lust down Cain’s midline. In a flash, Abel tipped his head and fiercely bit Cain at the junction of his hip and a hellish growl blasted from the elder’s throat as he came.  
  
Within both of them, the nanomachines hummed; their quiet cries for blood raising. They had both lost enough to awaken their bloodlust and fangs grew keener, claws sharper in their want, but their carnal need overrode the stirring sentient organisms.   
Abel sat back on his heels and ran the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the elder’s blood along his skin. He looked at Cain. “I thirst, brother,” he intoned deeply and the edge of a nail played through the cooling pearls of come on the blonde’s abdomen.  
He tasted it as though he never had before then leaned over to lick a stripe clean.  
  
“Do I sate you, Abel?” Cain asked and propped himself up on his hands. The nanomachines sung to his innate aggression and when Abel had again sat back, Cain attacked, sending the younger Crusnik to his back. His exiting breath grew gravelly and Abel’s hands curled around the sides of the altar as his twin made quick work of the trousers that slung low on his hips.  
Cain gazed on the pulsing arousal between his brother’s legs and a wicked smile tore his lips apart. Black nails traced the vein on the underside of Abel’s cock and he carefully wrapped his hand around the shaft, giving him a few, measured strokes. Cain’s thumb glided over the moist head and Abel hissed his pleasure. He, too, gazed up at the holy icons that decorated the ceiling. The cherubim looked on, though in Abel’s mind, their smiles seemed contrived and their Divine Master narrowed his eyes and for a moment, a twinge of guilt picked at his senses.  
  
Lilith’s words again haunted his brain, this time with snippets of debates they’d had about the Terran God and his docile Son. He thought Them impotent, though the God of old had, at times, peaked his interest– a vengeful, wrathful One who’s pastime, he’d argued, was smiting the silly creatures He’d created. Nevertheless, he enjoyed the rise he’d get out of her whenever he would quote scripture, finding the flavour of blasphemy rather delicious. As these thoughts passed through Abel’s brain, his erection waned slightly and Cain slid his fingers from the shaft, his brows furrowed.   
  
“You’re thinking again,” he murmured and Abel made a sound then brought his gaze onto the blonde.   
  
“Don’t stop,” Abel answered and abducted Cain’s hand, bringing it back to his cock. Cain jerked his hand away from him and his eyes further narrowed.   
  
“You were thinking about _her_ , weren’t you!” the elder growled and Abel sat up, arms propped behind him. His hands softly curled along the stone surface as he met the accusing gaze.   
  
“I was thinking of something she said…” Abel’s head snapped to the side, Cain’s slap echoing off the dome above them.   
  
“Liar!” he spit and the fury, aided by the nanomachines, swirled in his blood. Abel’s eyes slit when he turned his head, his own hot gaze stabbing his double.  
  
“You know how she blathers on about God,” he bit and his defense went largely disregarded as his back met the altar top once more; this time with Cain straddling his right thigh and his hand around his throat.   
  
“Shut up, Abel,” Cain sneered and Abel batted the hand away from his throat.  
  
“I thought I told you not to stop, Cain,” he drawled darkly and snatched up his brother’s hand, guiding it to his cock. “Finish what you’ve started,” he commanded then added: “He’s apparently omnipotent.” Cain wrested his wrist from Abel’s grip and backhanded the other male.   
  
“I said shut up!” he repeated and dismounted Abel’s thigh to kneel between his sibling’s legs. Cain’s hand pressed hard above the younger Crusnik’s heart and he could feel it wildly beating. “You are _mine_ ; as I am yours. There is no room for anyone else!” he growled, his lips nearing the other set. “Such negativity in your life cannot be allowed, my brother.” Cain’s face lost its sharpness and he gently smiled at Abel, his nails branding crescents around the centre of Abel’s chest as he spoke. “How dare you bring _her_ into this!” Cain continued though he hissed in pain when four jagged cuts arced along his forearm. Abel had again smacked his touch away which did nothing but piss him off.  
  
“Cain,” Abel warned but further words were obliterated when Cain's tongue raped his mouth. Teeth clashed and they tasted each other’s blood in the brutal kiss. It wasn’t enough. Abel was his and his alone. They were one and always would be. Lilith could go to hell with her Terran lovers and they could spend eternity praying; wondering when they’d lost favour with their impuissant god. Cain severed the kiss and licked blood from his lower lip.  
  
“Give in to me,” he murmured and his fingers dug into his brother’s hips. He dragged the other male toward him along the altar. When Abel’s backside met his thighs, Cain raised the younger Crusnik’s hips off the stone table and impaled him.   
  
Abel’s growl echoed in the temple and he bore his fangs to the ceiling as the blonde rode him hard. A few harsh thrusts and the pain receded and Cain fell to his elbows, pushing further inside his sibling. One of Abel’s bent knees raised along the elder’s side and his hands clamped around Cain’s shoulders. Idly, Cain wondered if Abel had fucked _her_ – if she’d lured him into her bed with false promise and pretty lies. He didn’t like that Abel occupied himself with dialogue on various topics, though mainly on the subject of Terrans and their religion.   
Cain knew what Lilith was doing. She was the wedge they could do without; their self-appointed mother figure. He was everything Abel would ever need: Commander. Brother. Lover. Slave. Master…  
  
“I love you,” Cain said with stuttered breaths. He could feel thin rivulets of blood snake down his back from the younger’s nails and his breath puffed the fine, platinum strands above Abel’s ear. “Forever,” he tacked on and Abel chose to ignore him. Love was for poets and fools, though several debates on the matter with _04_ ended in a draw. It was a needless commodity.   
  
“Touch me,” Abel groaned and Cain’s pleased purr vibrated his ear. He drew a hand along Abel’s flank and cupped his ass as he drove harder into the younger Crusnik. Cain’s hand then dropped to the back of Abel’s knee and pushed the limb closer to his brother’s shoulder. He held it there as his aggression drove him. The scent of Abel’s hair and his blood assaulted Cain and he breathed deeply of both. He didn’t touch the way Abel wanted, but the press of his cock against Cain’s abdomen seemed to serve just as well.  
  
Abel rolled his hips upward, his jagged moans passing between them. The scent of the corpse just below them mingled sickeningly sweet with their pheromones and the base aura of lust that hung over the pair. His cock glided along Cain’s abdomen, his brother pressed so tightly against him that they were practically seamless. One writhing mass of carnal beauty, deadly passion that knew no peer. They were impure souls; experiments. Monsters. Gods.

  
A hand fisted Cain’s hair, bringing him closer and Abel pulled, pivoting the blonde head. He savagely bit his brother’s neck as his orgasm spread between them. Cain’s blood flowed hot in his mouth and the elder loosed a terrible cry as he joined his twin in release.  
 _“Forever, my brother,”_ Abel whispered into Cain’s mind.

  
  
  
To the west, the absent God’s adherents gathered the people, dispensing blessings on His and his Son’s behalf to the afeared masses. The ancient Church would rise again to protect the Terrans from the brute race and God would have no choice but to return through them.   
  
And if He didn’t, the venerable Sanctas Sedes would take His place.


End file.
